Camelot Orchestra
by alisi13
Summary: Who said being in an orchestra wasn't interesting? A FanFic following the Merlin characters as they attempt to navigate their eventful, somewhat funny and partly angsty lives as Uni students and musicians in Sydney, Australia. (Modern AU, rated M for swearing).
1. Chapter 1

**Hey y'all,**

**So this is my very first FanFic (hurray!) set in Sydney, Australia in...an orchestra, of all places. The reason for this is pretty much because as a violinist and member of a couple of ensembles, I know a bit more about what I'm writing about then other settings. Furthermore, in my mind, Bradley James (let alone the rest of the cast of Merlin) playing musical instruments would either be very cute...or very hilarious (unless they actually know how to play, in which case that would be very cool). **

**Note: I do not own Merlin (if I did, there would be a helluva lot more kickass fighting from the females and maybe a couple more Arthur shirtless scenes...)**

After zucchinis and cricket, Monday mornings had to be the worst thing ever invented.

Stifling a yawn, Guinevere Adama Wek slowly sat up from her comfortable nest of cushions and blankets that currently adorned her small single bed. 'Okay, there's probably a whole lotta stuff worse than Monday mornings, but still' she thought, as she looked somewhat dejectedly outside her window to the grey, winter landscape outside. Dark clouds hung low in the sky whilst a breeze blew bits of stray garbage and leaves down the street. A few business men and women were hurrying outside to catch trains and buses, their shoes clacking on the sidewalk as they passed below her window.

'Ah Sydney in June' Gwen thought, 'there's nothing like it'.

Although she had lived in Sydney her whole life, she had never totally gotten used to the weird weather, swinging from hot and humid in the summer months to wet and freezing in the winter.

As she continued to sit in bed, pondering whether or not to take her umbrella, Gwen suddenly became aware of the husky tone of Kurt Cobain's voice echoing from somewhere in her room.

"Oh shit my alarm" she said aloud, and she hurriedly began looking for her phone. She had previously set 'In Bloom' by her one of her favourite bands, Nirvana, as her wake up tone. In hindsight it was actually one of the best ideas she had ever had, as it was one of the only songs that managed to wake her up and not make her feel like throwing the device at a wall. Nope, she was not a morning person at all.

She found it hidden somewhere within the folds of her snuggie and promptly turned it off.

"Phew" she sighed in relief. 'And it's only 8:07'.

Hang on.

Orchestra starts at 8:30am. And it's 8:07.

Oh fuck. She was _so_ going to be late.

She tumbled out of bed and immediately began changing out of her oversized t-shirt and boys pyjama pants and after a few short minutes spent rummaging through her chest of drawers she found a pair of skinny cargo jeans and a black long sleeve shirt. After pulling on said items of clothing and a pair of lace up boots she observed her reflection in the mirror.

In her olive cargo pants and boots she almost looked like an army recruit. Or a grunge-y nineties teenager, with really curly hair that was beginning to frizz. Turning around she grabbed a grey beenie and shoved on top of her head. 'Yeah it'll do' she thought and promptly sped out of her room, almost knocking into her father who sat in the adjoining dining room, calmly reading the newspaper at the table.

Turning around, he took in his daughter's wild disposition. "Somebody slept in did they?" he asked.

Gwen scoffed "Yeah, good morning to you too Dad" .

Giving a small humph, he turned back around to continue reading his newspaper, until Gwen walked up and planted a small kiss on his head. "Anything good in there?"

"No nothing important, just some silly political things" he said shaking his head. "There's some toast in the toaster still if you want some breakfast".

"No thanks" Gwen replied now making her way to their houses' only bathroom. "Can't be late to orchestra or Uther's going to have my head".

Her father clicked his tongue. "Guinevere…" he began.

"I know, I know Dad. My shift went till pretty late last night so I overslept my alarm this morning". Gwen reasoned from the bathroom. She grabbed her toothbrush, squirted some Colgate on the end and began brushing her teeth.

"They can't keep putting you on these late night shifts Guinevere, they're working you too hard" she could hear her father's voice drifting in from outside.

Gwen had worked at the MacDonald's down the road for the past four years since she turned sixteen. It certainly wasn't the best job in the world, with all the greasiness and mess in the kitchens and the occasional rude customer, but it helped pay their bills.

Gwen's father, Thomas Samir Wek, owned and worked in an auto repair shop that sat just next door to their modest single story house. Despite studying to become a mechanical engineer in Cairo (which he moved to from his native Juba in what is now South Sudan), he was unable to find a suitable job. Despite his obvious intelligence, multiple qualifications and strong work ethic , employers took one look at his photo and rejected his application. All alone at the young age of 23, with no friends or family, Thomas found himself working a range of low-wage, often menial jobs to support himself.

It was only during a fateful Saturday night when he was a pizza delivery boy, that he was sent to deliver an exceptional order of fifteen large pizzas to a house in a more affluent suburb. After driving down leafy streets lined with large, fairy tale-like houses he found the address and rang the doorbell. The door soon opened to reveal a young woman, who was short in stature, with a crop of curly brown hair and a pair of big caramel coloured eyes that brightened as she gave him a grin and yelled out "Oi you lot! Pizza's here!" When a collective shout of excitement came from inside the house, the woman turned back to face him and whispered in a fake secretive manner "we're having a bit of a hen's night". Tom merely nodded and attempted to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed as soon as she had appeared. Although she was by no means the conventional type of beauty, with her wide jaw and prominent nose, she had an air of confidence and cheekiness that seemed to captivate his attention. To him, she was absolutely beautiful.

Those sentiments were cemented when they began to talk, asking him if he was a student (no, he couldn't afford it), if she was working (yep, waitressing at their family owned Italian restaurant that she lived above with her family), what she liked to do ("reading, reading and singing…and perhaps more reading") and whether he missed home (always). Despite his broken English and her heavy slang, they immediately felt comfortable around each other. As Gwen had heard her mother phrase it many years ago before her death, "you're father was one of the sweetest people I had ever met, very quiet and a little awkward, but obviously smart, hardworking and strong, not just physically but emotionally too. As soon as I heard him speak, I thought "This is the man I want to be with"".

It was only when a young blonde woman came from inside the house asking "Hey Isabella, are you getting the pizzas or are you making them?" that they realised they had been talking for almost fifteen minutes. When the woman attempted to hand over a wad of cash to Thomas, Isabella grabbed her wrist and said "Hey, let me pay". When she attempted to voice her concerns, Isabella raised a hand and said "Nope, as your friend, let me pay for the food on your last night of freedom".

"Besides", she continued as she counted her money, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "you'll need those to tuck into the pants of the uh, 'special guest', coming tonight Ygraine".

As her friend giggled and turned an embarrassed shade of red, Isabella handed the pizzas to her friend and handed him the cash.

Before closing the door, she gave him a small smile and said "It was nice meeting you Thomas".

"You too" he replied earnestly, wishing that he didn't have to leave so soon. "Have a good night Isabella".

She walked back inside, but before she closed the door, she leant over and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. As she did so, Thomas felt a piece of paper slide into his hand.

"If you can, you should come and visit me some time" she whispered softly into his ear, before running back inside and quietly shutting the door.

After a few seconds of shocked silence as Thomas struggled to control his wildly beating heart, he walked back to his motorbike and looked down at the piece of paper in his hand.

A brochure, for 'Leo's Italian Restaurant'. The address was at the bottom.

Within the span of a year, after many secret dates and midnight trysts, Isabella and Thomas would find themselves married much to the chagrin of the former's family who refused to believe that their daughter would marry a black man and subsequently disowned her. However despite the ensuing familial and financial hardships that arose, together they established 'Wek's Auto Repair Shop' which became well-known for its friendly and reliable service, good results and affordable prices. Within the same year, the pair welcomed the first of their two children into the world, a young boy with his father's face and mother's eyes, and two years later, a girl with her mother's wild curls and her father's gaze. Life was good.

So when Isabella died from breast cancer at the tender age of 34, Thomas was never able to fully recover. How could he, when the woman he had woken up next to for the past 11 years of his life, the first person to ever show him a shred of kindness in an alien country and see past the colour of his skin, had been ripped from his life? As a result, he became more withdrawn and sober. Although he was always there for his children and made sure that they knew of his constant love and support, he smiled rarely, and his laugh was as uncommon as snow.

Gwen checked her watch. 8:15. Shit, she had to run.

Running now, she rushed into her room and gathered the rest of her necessities for the day.

"Business textbooks, check. Phone, check. Jacket, check'" she muttered to herself as she shoved each item into a large canvas bag. 'Hang on, I'm forgetting something' she clicked her fingers in annoyance, a habit that she had developed during childhood.

"Ahah!" she exclaimed and she grabbed her violin case standing against the wall.

She ran back outside and gave her Dad a quick kiss on the cheek before saying "Have a good day".

Her father was now dressed in his standard work gear, overalls and t-shirt, and was about to make his way to the garage. He gave her a wave before asking "Have you got a coat?"

"Yup" she yelled out before shutting the door, missing her father's small shake of his head and quiet laugh, as he observed his wonderful, hardworking daughter, with her hat was sitting comically atop her corkscrew curls, attempt in vain to make it to school on time.

The walk to the train station was hell. If hell was actually a frozen nightmare as opposed to the fiery chasm that was described to her in Catholic primary school. However within a mere two minutes she was at the station waiting for the next train to the CBD. As she boarded the close to empty carriage she thought 'that's the good thing about living in Western Sydney. Don't have to fight as much for leg room, but its further away from everything'.

Within twenty minutes though she found herself sprinting out of the station up to the imposing set of wrought iron gates that marked the University's entrance. Camelot University was an old university, incredibly old, which over the years had established itself as the leading tertiary education institution in the nation. Sprawling over a massive piece of land in the heart of Sydney's inner city area, it was so large that it had its own train station. It was an incredibly affluent university, so much so, that only the best and the brightest were able to get in, and even then, you had to have the cash to secure a place (or trust that your HECs fund could cover it).

Thankfully in Gwen's case, she was able to get in thanks to bonus points (she knew getting a top band in business studies and maths would come in handy someday) and scholarships based on her living location (another good thing about living in the Western suburbs).

However none of that mattered now, as it was now 8:35am she was pretty sure that she was going to be ripped to shreds by her conductor, the painfully strict and fearsome Uther Pendragon; longtime conductor of the University's orchestra and all-round meanie who was unafraid to give tough love to those who did not obey his rules.

Soon, a panting and slightly sweaty Gwen found her way to the hall where practices where held three times a week.

'Okay Gwen, just open the door, nice and easy, than quietly make you way into the orchestra and sit down. It'll be like you weren't even there'

She tentatively opened the door.

'Oh shit they're already in' she thought nervously, as she caught a glimpse of them already sitting down, their instruments in rest position, as they listened to Uther speak, his deep voice booming around the large auditorium.

'Come on Gwen', she mentally chided herself, 'woman up, and get in there. It's your own fault that you're late anyways'. She hated saying man up; in her perspective it was like saying one needed to be like a man to be strong. In addition to hating Mondays and being incredibly sarcastic, she was a staunch feminist.

She pushed open the door and walked inside.

'See Gwen, this isn't so bad' she thought as no one turned around. 'Just keep walk-'

"And what do you think you're doing?"

Oh fuck fuckity fuck fuck, _Fuck_.

Slowly, Gwen turned around to face her conductor, who was standing with his arms crossed, a seemingly patient look on his face as he awaited her answer. At over six foot tall with granite facial features, he reminded Gwen of an angry Easter Island statue.

"Sorry I'm late, it won't happen again" she said in what she hoped was a confident voice.

Uther merely stood there and tapped his foot. A few painful seconds edged by. Gwen was unsure of what to do 'Do I continue to look at him, do I walk over…' She looked over to the rest of the orchestra. Her desk partner gave her a slight wave and an apologetic look, to which Gwen gave a small, hesitant smile.

Another few seconds dragged by before Uther replied "Disrupt my rehearsal again and you'll be seated at the back for the rest of the semester, is that understood?"

Gwen nodded quickly. "Yes"

Uther gave a curt nod and looked back to his music stand. "Good, now unpack before I change my mind".

Gwen didn't need to be told twice. Although she had never been late before, she had witnessed Uther's temper before, once displayed a year ago when he told a trombonist to leave after he was unlucky enough to turn up late twice in a row.

Putting on her shoulder rest and grabbing her bow, Gwen quickly made her way to her seat where she sat on the inside of the second desk of the first violins. Her partner immediately stood to let her in and whispered "Hey, sorry bout that".

"No worries" Gwen whispered back. "I accidentally slept in".

"Oh, late night at Maccas again?"

"Yup" Gwen confirmed. Her friend patted her arm and gave her a small, understanding smile.

Gwen had only really known her, Morgana Pendragon, for the past two years since she arrived at Camelot Uni, but since then they had become close friends. At a glance they appeared to be opposites in every way; Morgana had lived a privileged life, living in England before moving to Sydney to be with her rich Uncle (who also happened to be the conductor) and cousin after her parent's death in a tragic house fire. Gwen came from a working class background, who lived with her tight knit family in a less than affluent Sydney suburb. Morgana had a generally happy disposition, with a romantic streak and a heavy dash of charisma that allowed her to make friends easily. Gwen was more pragmatic and introverted, preferring to spend a night in eating ice cream and pizza whilst watching internet TV series over nights out. Morgana was more of an open book, unafraid to show her joy or sadness, anger or contempt. Gwen was incredibly passive aggressive; preferring to use sarcasm and heavy swearing to vent her frustrations.

And it wasn't just in personality; in looks they were completely different. Morgana was all height and gangly limbs, whereas Gwen was somewhat lacking in a few vertical centimetres and curvy. Morgana was ethereal and striking, with her mane of silky straight dark brown hair that looked almost black, and a pair of vivid, expressive green eyes. All Gwen had was an annoying head of curly dark brown locks, her mother's narrow nose, milky brown skin and nondescript, dark brown eyes. Although she definitely looked 'exotic' in that sense, she knew she wasn't necessarily pretty.

And yet, somehow, their friendship just seemed to work.

Both were incredibly hardworking, compassionate and empathetic, as evidenced in the amount of social justice rallies and petitions they were involved in, on and off campus. Both appreciated the value of reading a book on a rainy day and understood the satisfaction that can only be had after consuming a tub of chocolate ice cream whilst watching re-runs of Daria and The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl on Gwen's couch. They had spent many a summer day walking around the streets of Newtown and Chinatown, hunting for boutique outfits and ending up spending their money all on food (that tended to happen a lot), and had wasted free afternoons listening to nineties music and singing along into their hairbrushes or steeringwheels like the kids they were inside. Both had experienced loss, and were familiar with the subsequent waves of isolation, sorrow and anger that threatened to overtake them on their bad days.

They respected each other and were loyal to each other, not just despite their dissimilarities, but because of them. (Plus, Morgana's cheeky sense of humour combined with Gwen's ability to spout the odd sarcastic, witty comeback on the spot only added to their awesomeness. No one could defeat them when it came to verbal swordplay.)

Gwen looked at her bow then turned to Morgana. "Psst, you got any rosin?"

Morgana shook her head. "Nup, but hang on, I''l ask"

"Wait wait wait, its ok-"

But before Gwen could stop her, Morgana tapped the back of the person in front.

"Hey Arthur" she hissed.

A pair of annoyed sky blue eyes turned to face his cousin.

'Oh God' Gwen thought, desperately trying to look nonchalant. 'Why oh why did she have to ask him?'

The 'him' of course, could only refer to one person.

Arthur Pendragon.

Cousin to Morgana, violin extraordinaire and leader of the orchestra. 'With the face and body of a God' Gwen silently added.

With his mop of slightly tousled blonde hair, cheekbones and jawline that you could literally cut yourself on, and bright blue eyes, he was incredibly good looking indeed. That, paired with his obviously amazing violin skills, easy confidence and athletic physique made for one attractive mo-fo. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to date him. And as much as she would try to deny it, Gwen was one of the many girls who found themselves crushing on him. She didn't want to like him, its not as if anything could come from it. 'I mean come on' Gwen thought, 'I've been sitting here for the past two years and the most he's said to me is "can I have an A?"'. Besides they were just too…different.

"What d'you want?" Arthur asked.

Oh yeah, and he was a little bit of a jerk.

"You got any rosin?" Morgana asked.

"No" Arthur scoffed, "why didn't you get some before rehearsal?"

Ok, maybe a major jerk.

"It's not for me, its for Gwen".

Arthur turned his gaze towards Gwen, who promptly felt herself turning pink. 'Fantastic' she thought. 'Not only do I have to suffer public humiliation, I now look like a bloody tomato'.

He regarded her apathetically for a brief moment before saying "Sorry, don't have any on me now" and turning back to his music.

Gwen let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

"Sorry Gwen, Arthur can be a complete ass sometimes" Morgana said forcefully, addressing the second half of her sentence to the back of Arthur's head, who chose to ignore her.

"No worries, it's fine" Gwen replied.

At that moment Uther rolled up his sleeves and tapped his baton, grabbing the attention of the orchestra once more.

"Okay ladies, grab the Schubert out, let's see how you go for sight reading".

Cringing at the sexist comment, she immediately assumed the proper position.

'Here we go' she thought, as the opening cello solo of Schubert's 'Unfinished Symphony' began to play.

**P.S. Rosin is a resin is a type of solid resin that string players apply to their bows to help it stick better and create more sound as it rubs against the string.**

**P.P.S. Don't worry, other characters will be introduced soon in later chapters. **

**P.P.P.S. (Does P.P.P.S even exist? Can I write that?) Please read and review-I LIVE OFF CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK**


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey y'all,_

_First of all, thank you so much for reading this; I know I'm not the best at writing so the fact that you clicked on this shows that my writing is not as crap as I think it is. In saying that, I currently have no one beta-ing this, purely because I'm kind of new to FF and am not as good as working the site as I probably should be. So any writing suggestions and corrections are welcome :) _

_Secondly, as hinted in said summary, this story is specific to Sydney, Australia, as I kind of live here (well, not kind of, I _**_do_**_ live here). So if there's any queries about terms or phrases that may be specific to this location that you have no idea what they mean, just post a review and I'll be happy to explain. Although I've started writing a glossary at the start of each chpt. (to the guest who suggested it, hope this makes things easier :) ) _

_Thirdly, as you'll find out, I've taken a lot of liberties with the nationalities of certain characters. I do this because, as an Australian who comes from a minority background myself, I appreciate the fact that I live in an amazingly diverse and multicultural society. If anyone happens to stumble across this story and has a similar nationality/experience to any of the characters here, please don't hesitate to post a few thoughts about characterisation. I definitely do not claim to be able to fully represent the cultures I show here, so your thoughts are welcome. Same thing goes for my portrayal of Australia as a whole; if you live here and you think my representation of a particular location is not as good as it could be or could include some other things, feel free to post a review. _

_Okay (phew) now that that's over, please read on for the next instalment of 'Camelot Orchestra' for a glimpse into Merlin's experience as he rocks up to Camelot Uni..._

**Glossary**

_- _Music: Ok before you say 'Uh, I know what music is", I just want to clarify that when Merlin is standing in his room that is inundated with 'music' lying on the floor, I mean written music, like sheets and scores, etc. Basically the stuff that musicians read off with the heaps of lines and dots and squiggly lines.

- Brindabella Ranges: A mountain range that crosses New South Wales and the ACT.

- Abo: Incredibly derogatory and racist term used to insult people of Indigenous Australian descent. There's a lot of conflict and tension existing between Indigenous and non-indigenous Australians due to the unbelievable disparity in terms of life expectancy, employment rates, education rates, etc. Furthermore, many Indigenous Australians are subject to racism and prejudice, which is a situation I hope will be rectified in the near future, as it is disgusting the way that Indigenous Australians have been treated. As much as I hate using this language, I wanted to include the term to show the effects of racism, that is not only evident in Australian society, but in nations around the world.

- Year Nine: Year group where students are typically aged 14-15.

- Viola: Another member of the string family, looks similar to the violin except it is a bit wider and has a lower range (i.e. can reach lower notes).

- CommunityChannel: Great YouTube blog by an Australian girl called Natalie Tran. As soon as you finish reading (and reviewing) this (hey, see what I did there?), go and look her up. You will not regret it.

'Holy mother of God, is this a university or a bloody castle?'

This was what ran through the mind of Merlin Emrys McLaughlin as he walked up the stairs to Camelot University, which was to be his home for the next few years. And what a home it was, with its impressive sandstone buildings housing a labyrinth of winding staircases, busy hallways and multitude of rooms, libraries and laboratories. Peering into one, he saw a large lecture theatre filled with fold up chairs positioned towards a sleek metal podium and screen that descended from the ceiling. Merlin couldn't help but let out an appreciative whistle as he absorbed the impeccable mesh of the old and the new.

'Jesus, I wonder what Will would think of this' he thought.

Will was his closest friend back in Ealdor, a small town in rural New South Wales. Seated in the foothills of the Brindabella Ranges, it was small and a little isolated, but incredibly picturesque and top choice for many vacationers wanting to experience a taste of country living. He and his mother, Hunith, lived on their family farm where they raised dairy cattle. His father was gone. Absent. Left his mother before he was born. McLaughlin was his mother's maiden name. He remembered the day he left.

_"Hey Mum? Can you come up here for a sec?"_

_Hunith made her way up the stairs to his bedroom, to find her son's clothes and music strewn across the floor. In the centre of the ocean of mess, stood her son. An empty suitcase stood in the corner. _

_"Merlin" she said exasperatedly. His flight was in three hours and he hadn't even packed yet?! Although her son was the thing she loved most in the world, he could be pretty infuriating sometimes. _

_"I can't find it anywhere!" Merlin suddenly crouched down and began running his hands through the papers. _

_"Find what?_

_"My scarf"_

_"Oh Merlin" she sighs. _

_"I can't leave without it Mum" He turns towards her, his pained expression causing Hunith to soften a bit. _

_When Merlin was twelve years old, walking home from school one day, he spotted a group of Year Nines standing in a circle around a boy around his own age. Merlin knew these boys; they were the same ones from school who kept stealing his lunch. Needless to say he tried to avoid them at all costs. Their current victim was small, barely reaching Merlin's shoulder, with dark eyes and skin indicating his Indigenous heritage. _

_"You fucking abo, you better watch where you're going next time", one of them spat. _

_"Get away from me!" the boy shouted back, his fists raised defiantly. _

_"Make us." One of the older boys gave the younger one a hard shove, causing him to hit the concrete sidewalk with an audible smack. _

_"Hey stop that!" _

_The boys turned around in shock to see a slight, pale boy with a head of black hair and vivid blue eyes run towards their victim who was currently sprawled on the ground. When the former stood in front of him, his arms raised in front protectively as if to shield him from further harm, the older boys let out a bark of laughter. _

_"Aw look guys, it's Baby Merlin!", they cooed mockingly. "What're you gonna do baby?" _

_"Get away from him", Merlin repeated, his voice deathly calm. The boys exchanged a glance and then advanced towards him._

_Merlin wasn't sure what happened next, but what he did remember was waking up with a lump the size of a golfball on his forehead and a bruised ego as he found himself looking skywards, lying on the pavement. "Ohhh", he groaned. How long had he been there?_

_"Took you long enough". _

_Merlin sat up to see the other boy sitting casually next to him on the footpath, legs crossed underneath him as he played with what looked like a red handkerchief, ravelling and unravelling it around his wrist. "What happened?", Merlin asked groggily. His mind was a drum, his headache pounding in his head as he attempted to remember how he got there. _

_The other boy recounted how after Merlin's courageous albeit foolish attempt at defending him, was promptly knocked out by Liam, the ringleader of the bullies before running away with the rest of his cowardly friends when a police car began roaming the street. "The one who called me a fucking abo", the other boy said scathingly, lines of anger clearly etched upon his face. Merlin felt pangs of disgust as he too remembered. How could people say and do things like that? It was then the other boy walked over and hoisted Merlin up off the ground and introduced himself as Will. After learning Merlin's name, he let him lean on his shoulder as they walked back home, joking and talking and laughing as they went. After returning him to an incredibly distraught mother who softened a little after hearing of her son's bravery, Will left him the red handkerchief. "Thanks Merlin" he said "you're a great guy", and he trudged back home, politely refusing Hunith's offer to stay for dinner. _

_They were best friends ever since. _

_And now, Merlin was about to shoot himself, because he had lost the handkerchief. Goddamn lack of organisation skills._

_"Merlin" _

_"Not now Mum, I've got to find-"_

_"Merlin"_

_He turned around to find his mother holding the red handkerchief in her hand, her eyebrows raised questioningly anther son who gave her an apologetic smile, stepping forward to give her a hug._

_"Have I ever told you what an amazing mother you are?" _

_"Oh Merlin" she laughed a little, releasing her son from her embrace. "C'mon you better get ready. Will's gonna be here to drive you to the airport"_

_Ten minutes later after much packing and arranging and rearranging and then going back to retrieve things forgotten, Merlin ran downstairs to find Will waiting outside leaning on his car. _

_"Hey Will" _

_"Hey yourself. You bringing the piano with you? How much stuff you got in there?" Merlin looked down at his overstuffed suitcase. "Not enough" he said sincerely as he looked back around at his house, his family's land, the place he grew up. Despite the fact that he knew the trip was coming for about two months, he already felt pangs of homesickness. "Y'know, maybe I can just stay here"._

_Will snorted disbelievingly. "Yeah, and pass up that big time piano scholarship in Sydney? As if we'd let you." He grabbed Merlin's luggage and chucked it in the boot. "And besides, you're gonna come visit us, right?"_

_"Oh he will alright, or I'll fly straight up there and make him come myself". Hunith walked out of their small cottage towards the pair and looked at her son, all tall and gangly, with his red scarf hanging around his neck. _

_"Well I guess this is it Mum"_

_"Yup" she sniffled, unable to hold her tears back any longer as the moment she dreaded had finally snuck up on them. Merlin threw his gangly arms around his mother, leaning down to hug her short frame. "It's ok Mum, I'll be back to visit before you know it."_

_"I know, I know" she said tearfully. "It's just hard having to learn that my baby's all grown up"_

_"Uh, I'd like to think I grew up a couple of years ago when I officially became an adult"._

_"Oh shush" she said, slapping him on the back of the head. "You know what I meant". _

_Merlin laughed. Man was he going to miss her, After all it was her who took him to his piano lessons, who bought him his books, who attended all his recitals. She was always there for him, just as he was for her. It was going to be weird not having her around. "Love you Mum"._

_"I love you too", she replied. "I'm so proud of you. Look after yourself and call me as soon as you get there with Uncle Gaius."_

_Merlin untangled himself from her embrace and got in the car with Will. As they began to drive off, Merlin could hear his mother shout, "Make sure he gets on that plane Will!"_

_"You betcha Ms M", he shouted back, waving a hand as they sped away, Merlin's home becoming nothing but a small blue dot in the rearview mirror. As they drove onwards, the car rattling as it travelled the dirt road, thoughts of what Sydney was going to be like crowded Merlin's head. He knew that it would be bigger, much bigger than Ealdor (although let's face it, a lot of things are bigger than Ealdor). There would definitely be more people, more places to see, things to do. He could finally see the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, take a stroll on Darling Harbour, and finally find out what a night spent at a nightclub would be like (Ealdor didn't exactly have much of a 'nightlife', unless you counted the one tavern that sat on the main road). He could finally transfer from his communications degree and study music performance; something he had always wanted to do since his fingers first touched the black and white keys of his family piano as a child. _

_And yet, Ealdor was home. It would be hard parting with it. (Well, that and his Mum's cooking. Damn, what was he going to eat now?) _

_They reached the airport shortly, a large stretch of dirt with a landing strip and tower. A small plane stood a little way away, ready to whisk him off two hours north to a place he had never been with people he had never met. But as much as he loved Ealdor and its rolling hills and familiar faces, as much as it was his home, it was time to leave and do something new with his life. _

_"Oi Merlin, you better get on the plane soon. It's about to leave."_

_Merlin turned to his best friend and gave him a back breaking hug. _

_"Ow, jeez Merlin no need to break my back" Will laughed, punching his friend in the arm. "You better come back soon, alright?"_

_"You betcha Will, look after Mum for me". As his friend nodded in the affirmative, he grabbed his bursting suitcase and clambered up the metal stairs to the plane. Giving Will one final wave, he went inside. _

Turning away from the lecture theatre, eager to evade the homesickness that was invading his mind, Merlin fished out a piece of crinkled paper from his jeans pocket. '_Camelot Orchestra, multi-award winning ensemble of Camelot University. Rehearsals held weekly in the Essetir Hall, Monday mornings from 8:30-11:30 am_'. Essetir Hall…Merlin's gaze travelled around a massive square where groups of chatting students were now sitting down on the grass to catch a much welcome spot of warm sunshine. He checked his watch before agitatedly running his hand through his hair. Christ he had missed the rehearsal. But it wasn't his fault he didn't know the address to tell the taxi driver, forcing them to wonder around the CBD until they finally located it. 'Huh, yeah keep telling yourself that Merlin, just hurry up and see if Uncle Gaius is still there'.

He found a stray brochure from the Camelot Uni Open Day and began reading the map. He kept his head down as he attempted to decipher it, whilst simultaneously navigating the crowd of students now bustling out of their rooms. This proved to be a serious lack in judgement on Merlin's part, as halfway through the corridor he collided with another body, causing him to fall onto the ground with a thump, whilst his and the other person's books spilled out across the floor.

"What the hell?"

Merlin looked up to see an incredibly angry blond guy, around his age, staring down at him from above. 'Jesus how long is the stick up that guy's ass?' he thought, although judging from the height and muscles of the guy, it may not be the best thing to say to him right now.

"Listen, I'm really sorry mate-"

"Oh really? How 'bout you just watch where you're going next time, idiot?"

Merlin stared up at this guy in amazement. "Okay, first of all, it was an accident. Secondly, how about you stop being such a prat and help me up?"

"Excuse me?"

Uh oh. Blond guy was getting pissed. "I said how about you help me up, prat? Or are you too much of a pretty boy to stoop down and help me up?" The small crowd of people that had gathered around them sniggered as they watched the boy in the red scarf taunt the arrogant blond guy, who seemed to be getting more and more pissed by the minute. Maybe if they were lucky, there would be a fight (the skinny guy would lose terribly but hey, it would make good YouTube material). Merlin stood up and faced him. The other boy promptly pointed a finger at him and said "Listen up buddy-"

"What in the name of fuck Arthur"

They both turned to see a tall woman with a mane of dark silky straight brown hair and green eyes stride over towards them, a single brow raised questioningly as she regarded them. The surrounding crowd dispersed, their source of entertainment now ruined by the appearance of the blond boy's sister.

"What are you doing?"

Merlin saw the other boy's cheeks redden slightly with embarrassment before answering, "Nothing Morgs, this idiot just walked into me".

"Oh and that gives you licence to act like a jerk?"

"Oh come on, he walked straight into me, he probably wasn't even watching where he was going-"

"It's probably because he couldn't see past your fat head" she retorted. 'Nice one' Merlin thought as he went about gathering his things. As he went about it, he noticed another girl standing not too far away from them, leaning against a door frame as she watched the conversation with a bemused expression. She was on the short side, with coffee coloured skin, dark brown eyes and a head of bouncy, curly brown hair on top of which a beenie sat crookedly. In one hand she held an instrument case (a violin? a viola? Merlin thought) and on her other shoulder was a simple canvas bag. Noticing him, she gave a small smile. "Hey, I saw you fall, are you alright?"

"Yeah", Merlin shrugged. "Takes a lot more than a pissed blond idiot to get me down".

She chuckled, her laughs intermingling with the intense conversation that was now escalating to a shouting match. Merlin looked on confusedly, catching his look Gwen explained. "They're siblings, well actually cousins, but they're pretty much brother and sister".

"Oh, that explains it". The Morgs girl was now walking away from her brother who was picking up the last of his books. Giving Merlin a last withering look, he strode off, leaving Merlin alone with the pair.

"Hey sorry about that" the girl called Morgs said. "Arthur's a bit of an idiot sometimes".

"No worries, thanks for coming to my rescue" Merlin assured them. The two girls seemed friendly; confident but really approachable. Maybe they were in the orchestra with him?

"Name's Morgana and this is Gwen" the curly haired girl gave a short CommunityChannel wave as her name was mentioned and Morgana picked up her own instrument case.

"I'm Merlin"

"Wow, interesting name"

"What can I say, I'm Irish" Merlin offered. Morgana smiled in response and outstretched her hand. "Same here, nice to meet a fellow country man". Merlin laughed and returned both the smile and handshake, as he heard a yawn from his left.

"Well if we've finished this lovely little meeting, could we get a move on? I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon and could murder a plate of Pad Thai." Gwen said. 'Oooh, so Gwen's a little sarcastic' Merlin pondered. Just as she said that, her stomach growled in response, as if to confirm her statement. She and the others laughed; already they felt at ease with each other, Merlin thought amazedly. 'Making friends is bit easier than I thought'.

Gwen turned her head towards him. "You wanna join us?"

"Yeah!" Morgana agreed. "We know this really good Thai place where you can a descent sized meal for under $10".

Merlin pondered it for a moment. "I'd love to but I have to meet my Uncle, um, Gaius? I'm not sure if you know him-"

"Oh Gaius, the percussion tutor? Sure we know him", Gwen piped up. "He's probably still in the auditorium if you wanna swing by first to talk to him and then come with us for some food."

Merlin's face lit up with a smile. "Sounds great" and with that they walked down the corridor.

**So here it is, sorry for the late update! I've been a little busy studying for exams, which are coming up soon. As a result, my next update probably won't be uploaded within another two or so weeks. Sorry again! But after that, I'll have no more exams until next term so my updates should be more frequent. As always, please review if you can (to those who already have, plus those who are following me or have favourited me, thank you so much!)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey y'all, **

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed and even only read my story; I was initially really worried at posting it but you guys have been a great source of encouragement and feedback. Keep it up! **

**Also a big thank you to my fantastic beta-reader, if-I-were-the-moon, who is reason why this is not riddled with numerous mistakes and who is to thank for the line "mental intellect of a chair". Don't know about you, but I think I'm going to use that against someone someday. Thank you! **

**Anyways, some reviews have been asking whether Gwen and Arthur are finally going to interact; I'm pleased to say, the moment, is here. Read on :) **

**Glossary**

_Sculling:_ Like chugging, except instead of alcohol Morgana is drinking (child friendly) water (not entirely sure if I needed to put this in here, but hell, why not).

_Refugees:_ Yes, I know that you all know what a refugee is. I'm just putting this in here to say that in Australia, there is a big debate going on over refugee processing and whether or not we should allow them into Australia. Just to clarify, there are a lot of people who are all for allowing refugees, whether they came via legal means or not, to become part of Australian society (including me). However there are a few groups who are against this or against a few aspects against refugee processing. In this story, I've decided to depict Arthur as a person who is slightly against it, purely because of his father's influence and his slight arrogance, will change through his interaction with Gwen (cue the 'awwws'). But please, I'm definitely not an expert on these matters, so if you have time, just go browsing on the internet or watch the news to find out more.

_'Pass that Dutch' by Missy Elliott:_ One of my favourite ever songs by one of my favourite ever rappers, fantastic for parties or when you just feel like letting loose and dancing crazily around your house (not that I ever do that…)

_Candy crush:_ A very addicting phone game where you have to try and get rid of different types of candy and screw it just play it on your friend's phone.

_'You're the voice' by John Farnham:_ Big pop song which was popular in Australia in the 80's (although I'm pretty sure you guys know this from the YouTube videos of Bradley James and Colin Morgan singing it. Yeah that's right, I know you've watched it)

_'Let her go' by Passenger:_ Really good ballad-style song by UK artist Passenger. Kind of like Ed Sheeran, but not…yeah.

_Maccas:_ Australian slang for McDonalds. It is so popular, that even the ads here refer to it as Maccas.

_Jena:_ Child, in Juba-Arabic (according to this website I found). Please let me know if this is wrong!

_Hairographic:_ A dance in which the hair moves around a lot (like the GLEE episode).

_"Pass that dutch!"_

The hypnotic, thumping bass notes of Missy Elliott's signature song reverberated around the mirrored dance hall. Gwen along with the other dancers, clad in loose fitting exercise gear, moved their limbs to the beat as they performed an energetic, yet slightly hairographic routine that they had been working on for the past few weeks . Morgana, however, was not really moving as much; she sat slumped against the wall, sculling down her water as if she had just returned from a trip to the Sahara. Perspiration dripped down her shirt, and her face was pulled into a look of utter indifference as she observed her friend and the rest of the dancers. 'Goddamn muscles', Morgana thought inwardly 'this is why you should stretch next time Morgana, stretch'.

"Come on, get into it", she heard Gwen say playfully, as she swung her hips to the beat. Morgana responded with a mere roll of her eyes. "Remind me again why I decided to sign us up for beginner's hip hop dance lessons?"

"Because you thought, and I quote, that they would be cheap, fun and help us get fit"

"Right" Morgana muttered, wiping stray beads of sweat from her forehead. "If I ever suggest anything like that again, please throw me into the nearest lake."

"Come on, it's not that bad", Gwen reasoned.

"Of course you think that, you can actually dance!"

"Oh shut up Morgs, you know perfectly well that before I came here, my repertoire of dance moves consisted of the dougie, the moonwalk and a lousy rendition of the sprinkler", Gwen replied as she performed her moves with an ease and confidence that made Morgana slightly envious.

'Damn, she can move', Morgana thought. 'Then why the hell does she not come out with us?' She would often try to coax her shy friend into going out clubbing on the odd weekend, yet each time, Gwen turned down her offer citing work or school commitments. However Morgana knew it was mostly because Gwen didn't want to leave her Dad all alone, especially as they had no other family. She took another swill of her water and moved down so that her body was now sprawled out, star-fish style, on the floor.

"God, everything hurts" she moaned. Her oh-so-sympathetic friend merely laughed in response.

Morgana raised an eyebrow as a signal from their dance instructor indicated the end of the rehearsal. "I know you must relish the thought of me being the sarcastic one for once, but I'm just letting you know that once my limbs stop making me feel like I should chop them off, you'll pay for that"

"Sure you will" Gwen replied as tied her sloppy joe around her waist and helped Morgana get up off the floor. "Are you still alright for giving me a lift?"

"Oh I nearly forgot to tell you; Arthur's going to give us a lift today. My car broke down so I coerced him into swinging by. Is that alright?"

Gwen merely nodded in response, but if Morgana was being honest, she thought she saw her friend blush slightly at previous sentence. 'Does she like him?' Morgana smiled wistfully at the thought and then snorted in disbelief as she pondered just how many planets would have to align and pigs to fly for her best friend and brother to get together. Gwen didn't go for guys like Arthur…wait, did she?

"Alright, so when's he coming?"

Morgana was snapped out of her reverie. Checking her phone, she said "Around about now actually, let's start heading out".

"Goddamn it", Arthur muttered as he lost once again in his Candy Crush round. For the past five minutes he had been sitting in his Dad's Mercedes (he would have taken his car, but of course, he forgot to fill it up) trying to pass the time as he waited for his sister and friend to come out of the dance studio. Exclaiming in annoyance, he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and began browsing through the contents of his Dad's glove compartment. His hands grasped a few CD's, and he read the covers. Aside from the expected Beethoven, Mozart and other random classical stuff, Arthur was surprised to find a few more…contemporary works.

'John Farnham? Since when did my Dad, like John Farnham?', he thought. He couldn't exactly picture the great Uther Pendragon, conductor of the acclaimed Camelot Orchestra, rocking out to 'You're the Voice'. But then again, he couldn't exactly picture his Dad doing anything that revolved around displaying human kindness. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he immediately pushed it out. 'Stop it Arthur, man up. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself.'

He was momentarily distracted by the sounds of his sister and her friend screaming and giggling. He wound down the window to see his long limbed sister getting a piggyback ride from her friend. Although it didn't exactly look consensual, as her somewhat shorter friend seemed to be trying to push Morgana off her back, laughing out loud as the latter said "I told you I'd get you back!"

Arthur fought to stifle a laugh as Gwen (was that her name? Gwen?) managed to shove Morgana off and ran to the car, narrowly beating his sister, who swung open the door and tumbled inside next to him. Despite being cousins, as opposed to actual blood siblings, they still saw themselves more as brother and sister. Arthur could still remember the day she arrived ten years before; a tragic house fire consuming the lives of her parents, rendering her destitute and homeless. As her godfather and nearest of kin, Uther brought her over from her native UK to become a Pendragon. Although Arthur was not happy initially to share his house and father with a cootie-ridden, argumentative ten year old girl who during their first meeting managed to beat him in a wrestling match (in which Arthur learned never to insult Anne of Green Gables, ever); they eventually became friends, confidants and cohorts. Furthermore, Uther displayed a unique kindness towards his little ward, which for an unknown reason, he never showed his son. Despite this, Arthur loved Morgana as his own sister.

Morgana extended her gangly arms and threw them around her brother in a sweaty embrace.

"Hey there big bro!" she said in mock enthusiasm.

"Ew you're all sweaty", Arthur complained before putting attempting to put his sister in a headlock. An attempt which failed, as Morgana tickled her way out of it before flashing a grin at Gwen who was observing them from the backseat with a bemused expression on her face. Seeing her face in the rearview mirror, Arthur took a decent look at his sister's often silent desk partner. With her dark skin, molasses coloured eyes and abundance of curly hair, which was pulled into a messy high bun, she was obviously exotic, however with her prominent nose and slightly thin lips, many people would not have deemed her Miss Australia material. But in Arthur's head, they only seemed to add to her character, which in combination with her calm, directed gaze, suddenly made him want to find out more about her. When he saw the wistful way she observed the interaction between him and Morgana he wondered if she had any siblings. Strange, he thought. He never saw his sister's friends in this way. 'Oh just stop being a prat and say hi, Arthur'.

"Hey Gwen", he said. Gwen snapped her head towards the front and coloured slightly as she found herself under his gaze. "It is Gwen right?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yup" she replied back before turning her head to look out the window. Maybe not the best way to start a conversation, Arthur thought.

"Didn't know you were such a big fan of John Farnham" he heard Morgana say, who nodded at the CD case he still held in his hand.

"Nup, but it turns out Dad is" he said, handing his sister the disk, who regarded it with an amused grin.

"Sheezus, who'd a thought the mighty Uther was really an 80's enthusiast at heart?" Arthur started the car, as he heard Gwen giggle a little from the back. Only Morgana could say that and manage to get away with it.

"So what were you listening to?"

"The works of Beethoven", he quipped. The car was now gliding along the highway.

"Huh, nice one", Morgana snorted, before turning to Gwen saying "Whaddya want to listen to?" As she leaned forward to check out Morgana's iPod playlist, Arthur thought he could smell the light scent of lavender.

"Um, just put in whatever you want".

"Alright, Passenger it is then". Soon the gentle, mournful melody of 'Let Her Go' filled the car, marking Arthur's turn to scoff. "This is such a chic's song".

"What do you mean by that?"

"This song is such a girl's song-it's all sentimental and shit" he reasoned. He turned the car onto the motorway. Gwen's face hovered in the rearview mirror. She didn't appear to be listening to the conversation, but a look of disapproval marred her features.

"Oh what, so if I popped on a 'guys song' like Bruce Springsteen, I'd get more respect from you?" Morgana questioned.

"Look, I'm just saying girls listen to this emotional stuff and guys…don't. Don't make this into such a big deal".

"You brought it up!"

"Why don't we just listen to the radio?" Gwen piped up from the back. The iPod chord was pulled out, and the car was promptly filled with the monotonous, nasal voices of a random station's news anchors. Arthur could practically feel the left hand side of his face burning from the laser beams of animosity radiating from Morgana.

"Listen, Gwen you know what I mean right?" he said loudly, in a not so subtle attempt to prove his sister wrong.

"Huh?" was her reply. Jesus, had she not been listening?

"You know, girls like to listen to cheesier, lovey-dovey stuff?"

Gwen appeared to consider her answer before saying, "I guess so".

Arthur turned to Morgana, who for some unknown reason had a wry grin on her face. "See, so now it's settled, you were just overreact-"

"Actually, I'm not quite done yet," Gwen said with a bit of hesitance in her voice.

'Oh really?' Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. This is probably the most he had heard her say in…two years.

"I think it is true that a lot of girls listen to this 'sentimental shit' as you so eloquently put it, but mainly because girls are brought up to like this sort of stuff. Most girls aren't exactly raised on a diet of AC/DC or heavy metal stuff, 'guys stuff' as you said-"

Her eyes seemed to flash amber as she argued her point.

"-And girls who are exposed to music like that are susceptible to being shunned by others because they're not 'girly' enough, or 'too edgy'".

"Well come on, that's not true some of the time-" Arthur tried to butt in.

"Yeah, sure, some of the time. But when you think about it, most girls are encouraged to like this sort of emotional stuff. And then when they start getting into typical 'guys stuff', they're told off for not being girly enough. I mean what would you have said if I told you I listened only to Nirvana or something? Would you see me as feminine still?"

"Uh-"

"I don't think so. And yet when Morgana puts on this-" she gestured to Morgana's iPod, "- you readily make fun of her for conforming. And even if she likes this sort of music, whether it's popular or not, who cares? If it's good, it's good, right?"

Arthur had nothing to say. She had completely stumped him. He could hear Morgana sniggering from the side.

"Um, yeah, I guess" was his reply. 'Wow, ever the eloquent one Arthur', he thought to himself. God, since when did this happen? He was Arthur Pendragon, for goodness sake. Girls were meant to be lost for words around him, not the other way round. And yet, he had to admit, Morgana's silent desk partner had really put him in his place. No other person, save the idiot who ran into him a few days ago, had done that. And there were those eyes again, he thought, looking into the rearview mirror once more to see her steady, brown-eyed gaze that seemed like a silent challenge. He resisted the impulse to park the car so he could fully turn around to see her.

The sound of the radio crackling broke his train of thought. "Stupid radio", he muttered as Morgana twisted the dial, trying to find a signal. Despite it being winter, the sun's rays penetrated the windows of the car, filling it with an uncomfortable heat. After a few seconds of fiddling, Morgana struck gold and once again the car was filled with the sounds of a shock-jock telling the latest news about a refugee boat crashing into the coast of Christmas Island. One third of the cargo, mostly desperate men, women and children, were killed. The survivors were rounded up into a detention center to be processed.

"That's awful" Morgana breathed. Arthur silently agreed, and listened on as the radio host shared his opinion.

"You know what?" the man bellowed, "I say good riddance to them. If they wanted to come here they should have done so legally!"

"What?" Morgana questioned. "How can he say that?"

"Well, come on, if you wanted to come to Australia wouldn't it make sense to apply for a visa instead of strapping yourself into a small, rickety boat and sailing for days on end."

Morgana opened her mouth to protest, but Gwen beat her to it. "You're kidding right? You think people would brave miles of ocean, possible run-ins with pirates, running out of food and death, just because they felt like not applying for a visa?"

If Arthur hadn't struck a nerve before, he had certainly done so now. "Look, I'm just saying, I don't think it would be right for you to willingly send their children and elderly family members across the ocean on a not so reliable piece of transport, when they could have just done it the right way and saved themselves the trouble".

But Gwen hadn't quite finished yet. "Most of those refugees are coming from war-torn, impoverished nations who are either unable to process them or who have been waiting years in refugee camps waiting to be processed."

"Sure but that doesn't necessarily give them the right to come here illegally", Arthur could hear his and Gwen's voices rising as the argument became more heated.

"The people who come here on the boats are desperate; they have no other means to get here. When you ask why they would be willing to risk the lives of the family, it's because they would rather risk death in escaping, then live in a country where their right to live a free, safe and happy life is virtually unrecognized. You can't just be so, righteous, and say that they shouldn't be allowed in because of that."

"Oh so you think I'm being righteous now?"

Gwen raised a single eyebrow. "Yes, actually I do. You are a privileged white man living in a developed nation. Have you ever experienced what they have?"

"Oh come on, you can't just say that, I had no control over where I was born". 'Just because I'm rich' Arthur silently added. Despite what a lot of people thought, Arthur wasn't actually as selfish as he seemed. He knew his family had a lot of money, but he wasn't necessarily selfish or righteous because of it. God this girl was infuriating.

"Neither did they", Gwen retorted. Her naturally low voice was becoming husky as she continued to express her point. "And if you can't see that, then that just makes you a selfish little boy sitting in his daddy's Mercedes, complaining about the 'other people'".

As the cliché goes, the silence was deafening. Even Morgana was no longer laughing, but instead watched the two of them, her eyes flickering back and forth like watching the exchange at a tennis match. Arthur fumed in his seat, his hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. 'Selfish? Does she really think I'm that self-centered?' He looked back at Gwen, who continued to stare out the window, her eyes burning laser beams toward the passing houses and shops that lined the street. They approached a small garage and an accompanying 1980's, one story house with a small wrought iron gate and tiny, yet tidy garden in which stood an apple tree. On one of its long limbs, a swing was tied on, the wood of the seat rotting slightly and the ropes frayed from overuse. It was here, that Arthur stopped the car and Gwen bounded outside, not even bothering to reply to Morgana's flustered "See ya!"

As soon as she left, Arthur sped off. He had never been so angry in his life. And yet, annoyingly, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of respect for her. Moreover, he found himself agreeing with what she said. 'Oh get a grip Arthur', he mentally chided himself. 'Just let it go, she means nothing to you'.

Morgana threw him an annoyed sideways glance. "Well good work Arthur, if you were planning on cementing your reputation as a jerk, you've finally done it. Now Guinevere's going to kill me for forcing her to take your lift."

"Well I can't help it if she sees things differently to me can I? And by the way, I am not that self-centered, I was merely trying to express my point which was that it was dangerous to sail out over miles of ocean to get here, and I know that she's right, but seriously, and what was that stuff about AC/DC, I mean-"

"You're rambling"

"Am not"

"Uh, yes you are. And you admitted that she was right."

'Holy fuck, I did' Arthur thought, trying to ignore Morgana's grin. What was with him?

Gwen practically flew in through the front door and slammed it shut. 'What in the name of fuck, was that?' she though exasperatedly, running her hands through her tangled mess of hair. She threw her backpack onto the ground and flopped onto her bed, shutting her eyes as she remembered the somewhat heated conversation in the car with Arthur.

Arthur freaking Pendragon. God, why had she ever liked him? He was as she had always said, a jerk. An apathetic, selfish, self-righteous jerk. Why had she ever bothered to think differently of him? Since when did he harbor such stupid opinions on what he labeled 'girls music' or the refugee crisis? Sure, a lot of guys thought that way, but now, Gwen knew that he was one them. Heaving a sigh, she looked outside her window. 'Well hey, at least he knows I exist', she thought, staring at the last rays of light clinging to the horizon slowly slipped out of view. She chuckled to herself. 'As if I give a crap now', she thought, tugging off her sneakers in preparation for her shower. 'That guy is just a stuck up little rich boy with the mental intellect of a chair.'

Feeling the sudden urge to eat something, she walked outside her room to the kitchen, and fished around her cupboard, and pulled out a chocolate muesli bar. As she unwrapped it and unceremoniously bit a large chunk out of it, she called out "Dad, you home?" She hadn't seen him since the night before due to his early morning, and wasn't going to see him until the next morning due to her shift that night at Maccas. "Dad?"

She walked into his room. Like all the other rooms, it was small and covered with faded patterned wallpaper. Except if a complete stranger was to walk inside, they would believe that it belonged to a couple. Isabelle's dresser still stood in its place next to the door, photos of smiling children gracing the scratched wooden surface, their edges curling and turning yellow from age. Bottles of cheap perfume stood amongst them, a hairbrush and tubes of lipsticks scattered amongst them. Gwen vaguely wondered if her mother's fingerprints were still on the plastic. She remembered the times when she would watch her mother getting ready in the morning, or when she accidentally glued her eyes shut from trying on her mother's mascara at the age of five.

Her father sat on the edge of the bed, turned away from her so that his face was in shadow. He seemed to be cradling his hand, which he was slowly flexing open and closed.

Gwen flicked on a light switch. "Dad?" she said, trying not to let her worry seep into her voice.

"Gwen?" he turned around, immediately dropping his hand. "What are you doing back here so early? I thought you'd be catching the bus home."

"I got a lift. What's wrong?" Gwen walked around the bed to sit next to him. She gently took his hand in hers and looked up at him. Her father shook his head. "Nothing Guinevere, nothing. Don't you worry"

Gwen felt her forehead crease as she said "Why should I be worrying? Is something wrong with your hand?"

"Oh nothing Gwen, it was just a little bit…tingly. I must be getting old" He stood up, resting his hands on his knees as he lifted his worn body off the bed. He looked old, and tired. "Come on Gwen, you had better get ready for work tonight. Do not forget to take the key."

"Sure Dad, and you let me know if your hand is troubling you again, I'll take you to the doctor", Gwen offered. He was always doing this. Pretending nothing was wrong so he didn't worry her.

"Nonsense jena", he stooped to plant a kiss on her head. "Don't worry about me, give me a call when you get to work so I know you are there".

Gwen gave a non-committal sign of agreement and he walked out into the kitchen, probably to make a cup of tea which he would drink whilst watching the world news. He would probably then read a novel, then tuck himself into the left hand side of the bed, his side, and fall asleep. At six am the following morning he would wake up and the cycle would start again.

Gwen rested her head in her hands. What was she to do? Her Dad was so bloody stubborn, for all she knew he could be losing feeling in his hands and he wouldn't tell her. She felt tears prick her eyes. 'Mum would know what to do' she said. 'She would know what to say. 'You stubborn fool, get yourself to the bloody doctor before I drag you there myself!'' Gwen gave a tiny laugh as she imagined her mother's nasally voice running throughout the house. When she sang. When she scolded.

'She's not here', Gwen thought bitterly, rubbing her eyes hastily and walking outside. 'And neither is he, so stop this and go shower'.

And yet, despite herself, instead of walking into her room she found herself drifting into another. A room where a bookshelf lined with soccer trophies stood next to an already made bed, dust gathering on the coverlet. A music stand stood next to the window, fixed shut from years of lack of use, and a trumpet sat nearby. It was there that Gwen stood for several minutes, drinking in the surroundings before turning swiftly around and shutting the door, the primary school made name tag reading 'Elyan Wek' swinging on the door handle.

**Duh duh DUH! I know there is no Merlin in this chapter, but don't worry, he is coming up ;) **

**Thank you for reading, and please R+R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey!**

**Sorry about incredibly late update; long story short, school is getting really hectic and being the unorganised person I am, it has taken me a good month to pull myself together and write the fourth chapter of Camelot Orchestra. **

**First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone who has followed and reviewed this story-you guys are fabulous and I can't thank you enough for motivating me to continue the story. To all the guests and non-Fan Fiction members who have taken the time to review my story, you guys are wonderful and sorry I can't PM you personally to thank you for your feedback. **

**Secondly, a round of applause to my wonderful beta, If-I-were-the-moon i.e. the reason that this story is not filled with mistakes and has actual, proper page breaks. YOU ARE AMAZING! For any of you interested in a modern day reincarnation Merlin fics, please check out If-I-were-the-moon's stories. **

**So anyways, I'll shut up now, please enjoy the next instalment...**

**Glossary**

_**Baton:**_The stick that a conductor waves around to signal when instrumentalists start and end playing and to give an indication of tempo and phrasing. And to get their ensemble to shut up if need be.

_**Stand:**_A music stand is a device used to hold up sheet music. Can be a bit of a hassle if you're playing outdoors though and you don't have anything to keep it from blowing away. There are many awkward moments where that has happened to me and my friends.

_**Terraced house (also called a town house):**_A type of housing where each house shares a wall with each other. There are a lot of houses like this in Sydney; often two-story brick houses with wrought-iron balconies running across the front that were made during the pre-Federation era (i.e. pre-1901 when Australia became a nation). I think they are really quite beautiful because they are so old; in saying that, many people are renovating them so that they keep their character and still function properly. If you want to get a clearer idea of how they look, just look up 'terraced housing' on Wikipedia and under the Australia and New Zealand section they have a picture of terraced houses in Paddington, NSW (a suburb in inner Sydney). Although in saying that, there are _**heaps **_in the UK (which is where it originated) so if you live there, then maybe all you have to do is look outside your window and imagine Merlin as your next-door neighbor (if only that were true though).

_**Mallets: **_Basically the sticks that you hit the mallet percussion with (which is any percussion instrument that you are meant to hit using a mallet-I know I know it's pretty confusing, but that includes instruments such as the xylophone, timpani, etc). Each mallet produces a different tone colour (or timbre).

_**Pad thai: **_I'm pretty sure a lot of you know what this heavenly dish is, but if not, it is literally the mouth-watering combination of noodles, soy sauce, herbs, peanuts and other yummy things and excuse me while I wipe the saliva off my keyboard.

_**Musicology: **_Music theory, where you can learn everything from how culture influences to music to how to arrange a piece of music for a band; so basically the bane of my existence in music class ATM :)

_***Seasonal reference:**_Just to clarify for my Northern hemisphere readers, in the Southern hemisphere our Summer is during December, January and February and Winter occurs during June, July and August.

_**Goon**_: A name for the really cheap wine that you get in the foil sacks, which people can pass around at parties (particularly teenage and young adult gatherings).

* * *

"Excuse me! Orchestra!" Uther tapped his baton on the edge of his metal stand, his attempt at capturing the attention of his ensemble failing dismally. The large wooden lined hall continued to be filled with an echoing bombardment of noise consisting of clanging, bashing, chatting and playing. Merlin chuckled at the sight from his place at the piano, where he was glossing over his music. Similarly, Gaius was standing behind the timpani, peering through his spectacles at one of the three percussion parts that stood on separate stands around the various drums, xylophones, glockenspiels, and other metal things that Merlin assumed would be hit in some way. 'He's probably going to need to audition a new percussionist' Merlin pondered, 'He can't keep doing all the parts for long'. Because there were three parts, it meant that Gaius would have to run from stand to stand to play each one, which was simply too demanding for someone his age, even if he was one of the most experienced and talented percussionists in the Sydney area.

On the whole Merlin enjoyed being with his Uncle, who was a man in his fifties or sixties (Merlin had no idea, and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to find out soon). He was short, with white hair, bushy eyebrows and a penchant for wearing rainbow-coloured suspenders. Despite appearances, he could be a little cantankerous, seeming to have perfected the art of delivering a judgmental stare, which most of the time happened to be directed at his fidgety, over-curious nephew. The small terraced house that they resided in sat nestled on a quiet street lined with eucalyptus trees, sandwiched between a deli and a house belonging to an elderly woman who rarely left the confines of her home except on the rare occasion to knock on their door with a gnarled hand to complain about Merlin's piano playing. The house was old, with vines that snaked across the brick walls covered with flaking white paint. Inside, the house was divided into two levels-Merlin occupied the top bedroom where Gaius stayed below. Everywhere, the walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books, much to Merlin's delight.

"Will you all _shut up_?!" An unceremonious bellow from their now frustrated conductor finally silenced the musicians, who turned meekly to face him and raised their instruments. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gwen and Morgana's heads swivel around and he smiled a little to himself. It had only been one week and already he had made friends with the pair. Not only were they down-to-earth, they were also shamelessly funny and quite tough.

They had also introduced him to the wonder that is Pad Thai. And for that, he, and his stomach, would always be grateful.

His eyes latched onto the blond head of hair seated in front of them. '_Shame the brother's a bit of a prat though_'. Then shifting in his seat, he carefully placed his fingers on the keys of the grand piano, his finger pads lingering wistfully over the familiar black and white keys. Then after a signal from Uther, he began to play.

* * *

After a couple of hours, the rehearsal concluded and Merlin walked over to Gaius, who was attempting to close the zip to the bag where all the mallets were stored.

"Here let me, Uncle".

Gaius handed it over to Merlin who promptly zipped it shut and said with a grin, "Getting a little old, _old_ man?"

Gaius merely raised a single bushy eyebrow. Only Merlin, with his cheeky grin, could get away with something like teasing him so plainly. "You know Merlin, old or not, I can still smack you over the head".

Merlin gave a small laugh, and continued to help him pack the percussion away, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they transported the heavy drums to the store-room at the rear of the hall. The rest of the orchestra had already left, Gwen and Morgana assuring him that they would wait for him in the courtyard to grab some food before their respective lectures; Accounting and Business for Gwen, Journalism for Morgana and Musicology for Merlin. Soon the entire room was devoid of equipment and Merlin grabbed his bag, gave his Uncle a wave and sped off to join them. As he sprinted towards them, not wanting to keep them waiting, he noted the warmth and faint scent of freshly mown grass that hung in the air. The relentless frigidity of winter seemed to be abating, to his relief. He was more than ready to experience a true Sydney Summer, and it was only July.

It was at that moment, that Merlin, enraptured with the habits of Sydney's weather, smacked into the body of a passing student and for the second time in a fortnight, found himself on the ground. 'Ugh', he groaned, hoping that his embarrassment didn't show and that the person he collided with was _not_Arthur Pendragon. He really had to start looking where he was going. "God, sorry about that" he began, but he silenced by a voice, tinged with a slight accent saying "Are you okay?" Looking up, he saw a man roughly around his age with wavy brown hair and matching eyes, whose hand was extended towards him. Merlin gratefully accepted it and let himself get pulled up by the stranger. "Sorry I should have looked where I was going", Merlin said to which the stranger replied "It's no bother, are you sure you're okay? You took quite a fall".

"Yeah, no worries, I ran into someone else a couple of weeks ago. The ground and I are really good friends now."

The other man laughed at this, but stopped suddenly at the sight of a textbook laying in a puddle a few meters from where they stood. He ran over to it and picked it up, muddy water dripping off the now sodden pages. "Damn", he muttered, "I don't think I'm gonna be able to write that paper tonight". Merlin felt pangs of guilt; the textbook probably flew out of the guy's hand when he knocked into him.

"Shit, I'm really sorry about that. Did you want to check out the library to see if they have a copy?"

"This _is_ from the library". The other man heaved a sigh as he flicked through the stained pages. "And I don't think they would like it if I asked for another one".

Merlin saw the title of the book, the exact one emblazoned on Gwen's business textbook. "Listen, you don't have to go back. I can ask a friend if you could borrow hers."

The other man's face transformed into a look of slight hope, then skepticism. "It's fine, I don't want to ask that of you."

Merlin merely waved his hand. "I'm not guaranteeing anything, but I can ask her and maybe you can photocopy the pages you need".

Then a thought hit him.

"Actually, what are you doing right now?"

The other guy shrugged his shoulders. "I was just off to find a place to eat. If you hadn't guessed already, I'm a little unfamiliar with the campus…and anything outside of it."

Merlin flashed him a friendly smile. It was not too long ago that he was in his shoes. Although judging from the accent, he was from somewhere a little further away than Ealdor.

"Well, listen", he proposed, "Why don't you join me and a couple of my friends for lunch? It's the least I can do after ruining your textbook…and paper."

A grin broke out on the other guy's face. "That sounds nice, thanks…"

"Merlin, the name's Merlin", and he extended his hand.

As the other man shook it, he replied, with his own. "Lancelot"

* * *

It had been a full twenty minutes until Morgana and Gwen spotted their friend and an unknown companion wandering down through the courtyard chatting amicably among themselves, to their spot underneath a large tree. "Finally", Gwen heard Morgana grumble, and she heaved herself up from their grassy seats, only to come face to face with the most startling pair of hazel eyes she had ever seen.

"Uh…hi?", Gwen breathed. She was acutely aware of Morgana's similarly stunned stare at the mystery man who gave her a small smile and a soft hello in return. _'And there goes my ability to form proper sentences'_, thought Gwen, then she mentally shook her head. _'Dammit Gwen, snap out of it, it's just the accent. Just the accent'_.

"Hey, so this is Lancelot guys-", Merlin began.

"But you can call me Lance", the man finished, giving the girls a sheepish smile, showcasing two rows of perfectly white teeth. "Sorry about the intrusion but Merlin here offered to let me join you for lunch after ruining my textbook".

"Jesus Merlin, did you run into someone else again?" Morgana jokingly admonished, her eyes widening in surprise when Merlin's apologetic look confirmed her suspicions. Gwen's gaze was still locked on Lance's, who seemed to be returning the look with equal enthusiasm, only to be broken by Merlin's _incredibly_ subtle, "Shall we head off now?" The four of them picked up their bags and started walking outside the campus towards the public food court that sat next door to the university.

Much to Gwen's relief, lunch was a much less tense affair, her nervousness wearing off as soon as they sat down at a table in the sushi train, a small restaurant with great service and tasty, affordable food (an important thing to consider for uni students like themselves). Lancelot turned out to be quite an interesting guy; an exchange student from Spain ('explains the amazing accent' Morgana would later say), he told them about how he had only arrived a few days ago and realized that his host brother, a seedy guy named Cenred, was not the hospitable person his profile stated he was, and refused to show him around campus and the city. The extent of the fulfillment of his duties stopped at Cenred showing him where his bed was, which ended up being the couch.

"Sounds like a major douchebag", Gwen said between mouthfuls of her salmon sashimi.

"Douchebag?" Lancelot queried.

"Really annoying person", Morgana clarified.

Lancelot went on to tell them how he was planning to become an artist, although in order to appease his parents, he had taken up a joint business-arts degree.

"Wait, didn't you say Merlin ruined your textbook?" Gwen asked.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'ruined' exactly…", Merlin began to argue, only to be shut down by a look from Morgana who gestured to the heap of wet, rumpled pages that sat on the floor next to them.

"You can borrow mine if you want, until you get another one", Gwen offered.

"Are-are you sure that's okay? I don't want to take it away from you-" Lancelot began to say. Gwen simply raised a hand, silencing his protests, and smiled. "It's fine", she said. "I can give it to you after our seminar today if you want."

"That would be great", Lancelot replied, nodding his head. Merlin noticed the way his eyes lingered on Gwen's kind, straightforward gaze and deep brown curls that brushed her shoulders._ 'Oh boy, someone's falling for Gwen alright.'_

Morgana seemed to notice the connection too, when soon after she turned her green-eyed gaze to Lancelot and said, "So Lance, what are you doing this Saturday?

"Uh, nothing much I guess, probably some studying", he said, as he deftly picked up a block of rice with his chopsticks, whereas Merlin who had given up long ago with his, stabbed his meal savagely with a single stick and shoved the morsel in his mouth. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, my birthday happens to be on Saturday, and I was wondering if you would like to come to a little...gathering I'm holding at my place that night."

'Gathering, if that's what you call it, as if', Gwen thought, rolling her eyes. Morgana had been planning to throw a party for the past month, now that Uther had finally allowed her to after she convinced him that nothing would be broken or stolen and that no one would be doing obscene things in any room in the house. Despite the fact that she came from obvious wealth and luxury (as exemplified in the mansion that she, Arthur and Uther inhabited) Morgana was set on having a real house party, with cheap food and good music…and obviously some alcohol, they were adults for crying out loud. Although she drew the line at goon bags-there was no way she was drinking out of a freaking goon bag.

"Wow that would be great!" Lancelot exclaimed. "Wait, are you guys going?" he asked Merlin and Gwen, although his gaze was trained solely on the latter of the two.

"No, I only invited you and not my friends", Morgana deadpanned.

Lancelot gave her a blank look.

"Of course I invited them", Morgana said genuinely, realizing that her sarcasm was wasted on him.

"Well, in that case, I would very much like to come. Are you sure that's okay?"

"Of course it is", Gwen interjected. "We'd love you to come". It was only then that she realized the question was aimed at Morgana, and resisted the temptation to cover beneath the table in embarrassment. She then pretended to ignore Morgana's sly my-job-is-done wink and then stood up to grab the bill which they all split equally among themselves.

As they walked out into the unnaturally warm air, Merlin enquired, "Hey Lance can we see any of your art?"

"Um, I haven't brought any with me to Sydney, but I have a couple of photos if you would like to see", he said, almost shyly, his earlier confidence seeming to have dissipated at the idea of showing them his portfolio. When the three others around him nodded enthusiastically, he slid his phone out of his pocket and the four of them huddled around it on the footpath. Despite being mere photos, the works shown on the screen were stunning to say the least. He showed them a short series of paintings; portraits where the faces where depicted using bright splashes of vibrant colours. Each work, Lancelot explained, contained the faces of close friends, where he tried to capture their likeness and then further emphasise it through the colours and his unconventional take on applying the paints, which he did through use of a loaded brush and spreading the paint like butter on bread using various other instruments.

"Wow", Gwen breathed, "These are amazing", echoing the very sentiments of the others. They were all spellbound by the energy captured in each face, the unique power and personality that each portrait held. It was clear that Lancelot was a _very_ talented artist.

"Thanks", he said with genuine happiness, however his face fell as he said "but my family does not seem to think that". Bitterness seeped into his voice, and the three of them flashed looks of sympathy.

"Well, you should be proud of yourself", Gwen said, giving him a small smile that spoke volumes of her belief in his talent. Lancelot seemed to draw comfort from that, as he returned it with his own, causing Gwen's stomach to start doing strange backflips. Trying to hide the slight blush that had begun to creep onto her cheeks, she resumed walking, Morgana catching up to her so that Lance was left with Merlin.

"So", Merlin questioned, a knowing grin on his face, "has your opinion of Sydney improved?"

Eyes fixated on the laughing, curly-haired figure ahead, Lance smiled and said "Yes, I think it has".

* * *

**Uh huh that's right, Lance is in the building. So what's gonna happen? Is he gonna hook up with Gwen? Is he actually a zombie disguised as an exchange student? Is this all just one bad dream of Arthur's?****_ Who knows? _****You're just gonna have to stick with me if you want to find out more about our cute Spanish student :P **

***Note: So the paintings I have imagined Lancelot to have created are based on the art works of French artist Francoise Nielly, who creates amazing portraits with knives (I kid you not, this is legit) which she uses to spread the paint on canvases. **

**Thanks again for reading, reviews are much appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys!**

**Here's the next chapter for Camelot Orchestra in which the seeds of friendship are being sown between Arthur and Merlin (well, starting to), Gwen and Morgana get their dance on, and tragedy strikes. This is pretty long, and I would advise you to check out the glossary as there are a few musical terms that needed to be explained. Further to this, there is a party so there are depictions of drinking and people getting drunk. So if you're uncomfortable with reading this sort of material (don't worry, no MA rated stuff) then read with caution.**

**As always, thank you to my beta, If-I-were-the-moon, for correcting my many mistakes (and trust me, there were a lot) and taking the time to give me really helpful constructive feedback.**

**And also, a big thank to my readers and reviewers-you guys literally make my day :) **

**Please read and review! **

**Glossary**

_Kitch:_ Something that's old but also considered kind of tacky and tasteless. Like the peeling, fake wood-panelling from the 80's that currently covers my kitchen cupboards (yeesh).

_Rugby (Union):_ In my opinion, the best sport on earth (yeah that's right, I said it). I think my UK readers should be very familiar with this, but for those who aren't, it's essentially a sport with two teams (usually with fifteen people a side), where there are two very simple goals. To either catch and run with the ball, or to tackle the unlucky bastard who happens to be carrying it. You score by running to the other team's side of the field and touching it to the patch of grass behind the goal posts (called a try), or by kicking it through the goal post (which only happens I think if you score a penalty and after you score a try). To my Australian readers, I know that rugby union isn't as popular as other sports (cough 'AFL' cough 'Cricket' cough 'NRL'), but this is the sport that I and a lot of other Australians grew up with and love, so in order to keep this story as authentic as possible, I've decided to make Arthur a rugby player. Although when you consider how good he'd look in a rugby outfit, you can't say that it's a bad idea...

_Composer: _Someone who writes music.

_Right hand: _You know how pianists play with both hands? Well sometimes when you're sight-reading (i.e. reading music) you can mime what you read, depending on who you are. I tend to do that sometimes so, yeah :)

_Dissonance: _Clashing notes. Think the theme from 'Psycho' (except maybe not the scariness).

_Syncopation: _Notes that are off the beat.

_Range: _As in the range of notes, so how low and high they go.

_Dynamics: _Volume

_Fingering: _Which finger to use for playing which note. For a lot of instrumental parts, you need to plan it out so that it's not awkward to play.

_Idea: _Yes, I know you know what an idea is. But in music, it's kind of like a musical phrase or moment, which can be developed through varying it in a number of ways.

_Buzzfeed: _You guys probably know what this is, but if not, it is pretty much my number one procrastination location (hah it rhymes) on the internet. This site has pages on everything, from the what's up with the US government shut down to what songs to listen to this summer to the best compilation of cat gifs. Trust me-DON'T GO ON THIS SITE WHEN YOU HAVE EXAMS OR YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF LOOKING AT PICTURES OF CUTE CATS FOR HOURS.

*_The clothes: _For Gwen's and Morgana's outfits, I used actual blouses from ModCloth (internet clothing site). I'll put the links to the t-shirt and blouse later on my profile if you're like me and you want to visualise the outfits (or just really pretty clothes) :)

_Corona: _Brand of beer, apparently originating in Mexico (if Wikipedia serves me well). You learn new things every day...

_Cruiser: _Short for vodka cruiser, a type of alcopop, which are alcoholic drinks mixed with sweeteners so they taste like soft drink. This is actually quite dangerous, as it makes them easier to consume and therefore harder to keep track of yourself. So if you or your friends choose to consume them, I would advise you to watch out and limit the amount you drink. Also, I think this would be a good time to mention that the legal drinking age in Australia is 18 (just in case if someone was like _'Wtf is half the room drinking illegally?'_).

_Getting pissed: _Getting drunk (another self-explanatory reference that I decided to put here anyway because I'm pedantic).

At around half past nine, Merlin found himself standing outside the Pendragon's front door, the frigid winter air causing his skin to erupt in goosebumps under his shirt and jeans. Holding the present for Morgana, that he had the pleasure of testing his gift wrapping skills on for the first time, he pressed the doorbell, the loud chimes echoing inside the large, stately house. The door opened to reveal a slightly annoyed looking Arthur donned in a pair of track pants and t shirt. His eyes narrowed slightly as he recognised the visitor.

"What are you doing here?"

Merlin awkwardly waved a hand. "Uh hey, I'm helping Morgana set up her party for tonight? I'm Merl-"

"Yeah I know who you are". Arthur eyed him suspiciously then spotting the messily wrapped gift under his arm, he turned and beckoned him inside. "Come in"

Merlin let out a relieved phew, glad that he didn't have to pull out some ID or call Morgana to let him inside the house. He followed Arthur through what appeared to be the main hallway, the floor covered with darkly stained wood panels reflecting the yellow light of the gold coloured sconces which lined wine red walls. The Pendragon house was old, but unlike Merlin and Gaius' home which was '70's kitsch linoleum countertops' old, this mansion that Morgana and Arthur referred to as their home was more like an English manor. As they walked, Merlin peered through one of the doorways to find a study where a massive oak desk flanked by two grand bookshelves sat on top of a luxurious rug, making him gasp with amazement. The next room, a formal dining room of sorts, contained similar furnishings, as did the next and the next.

They reached a stair case which Arthur bounded up two at a time, causing Merlin to awkwardly rush up behind him, before being shown into what he assumed was Arthur's room.

"You can stay in here for a bit. Morgana's having a shower and Dad's using the living room for something. Should only be another ten minutes."

Merlin had to fight to contain his surprise. Like the other rooms, Arthur's bedroom was spacious, having enough room to contain a double bed (which Merlin noticed was not made), a couple of bookshelves filled with books and papers, and a desk that looked so big it could have been a dining table. Merlin was surprised. He assumed Arthur was some sort of OCD neat freak, but it seemed that being tidy was not his forte. Making his way through the mess of clothes covering the plush carpet, Merlin found a small lounge, removed the rugby ball lying on it and sat down. Arthur ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "Yeah sorry about the mess".

"No worries", Merlin replied. He didn't really mind it; in fact it kind of made the almighty Arthur a little more human.

A few tense seconds ticked by. "So", Arthur began, "As great as this small talk is, I'm gonna grab some food. Don't touch anything."

Merlin raised an eyebrow questioningly, which Arthur ignored, walking out the door and slamming it shut as he went.

'Well that went well' he thought to himself, getting up off the seat to walk leisurely around the room, peering at his surroundings. _'Hey, he never said I couldn't look'._

He travelled over to the desk, which was strewn with pieces of paper and various writing instruments. Taking a closer look, he realised that they were manuscript paper the lines filled with handwritten notes. This was music, Merlin realised. _'Arthur's a composer?'_

He immediately picked one of the sheets up and began reading it, eager to find out just how good (or bad, he hoped) Arthur was at writing music. But to his shock, what he read seemed…alright. As it was written for a piano, he began miming the right hand part, hearing the notes in his mind. Although his sight-reading wasn't fantastic, Merlin got a sense of the anger contained in the lines; the frequent dissonance conveying a sense of unease, emphasised by the use of syncopation.

The range was wide, with the contrast between the rumbling bass notes and piercing high notes creating distance adding a distinct sense of what Merlin imagined to be some sort of angst. The varying dynamics, ranging from soft to incredibly loud would most likely add to that. Aside from a few notation issues with fingering (understandable as from what Merlin knew, Arthur wasn't a pianist), what Arthur had written was passionate and moving. He flicked back to the first page again and spotted the bar which contained that particular idea that Merlin liked. Perhaps he could develop it a bit more-

The door opened to reveal Arthur, an apple in his hand, his eyes locked on Merlin, who was currently resisting the temptation to bolt over to the window and throw himself out of it.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?", he said sharply, and he began walking towards him.

Merlin's hand, which was gripping the paper, froze in mid-air as he attempted to figure out something to say.

"Sorry, I was just...it's really good and I wanted to read it-"

Arthur was Uther's son alright-his stare had literally reduced Merlin to a mumbling idiot. Yet he must have said something right, as Arthur stopped dead in his tracks with a questioning look in his eyes.

"You think it's good?" he questioned, his voice laced with skepticism.

"Yeah, it's really intense and well written, something I'd really like to play. I mean aside from a few notation issues, it's pretty fantastic." Merlin averted his gaze to the page once more as he sought out the bar. " Maybe with this idea you could develop it more by just…" He trailed off as he realised that Arthur had been rendered speechless. It was then that Merlin also realised that this music had probably not been shown to anyone before and that he may have just intruded on something very private.

"Shit I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look through your stuff and intrude on your private compositions I kind of just saw them and-"

"How can it be developed?" Arthur cut in.

Merlin swallowed. Looking at Arthur's face, which had seemed to have melted from a mask of barely contained fury to that of slight curiosity, Merlin hesitantly told him of his ideas for the composition.

"Maybe you could repeat it here…and here you could try integrating it in this little part", Merlin said as he pointed out the places with Arthur making his way so he could see. When he finished, Merlin looked up to see Arthur looking at him curiously, as if he was trying to figure something out.

"So what do you think?" Merlin asked

A few seconds silence. "I'll consider it", was Arthur's reply, and then he took the piece of paper placed it back on the desk. For the second time in the space of a half hour Merlin felt a sense of relief and he leaned back on the desk.

"So when are you planning to write it up properly?"

Arthur plonked himself on the lounge, taking a large bite out of his apple, staring pointedly away from him. "None of your business," he garbled around the apple gesturing with his hand.

"Well after you fix it up, you should probably consider putting it on the computer and if you want I'd be happy to play it for you-"

"What makes you think", Arthur cut in, "that I would fix it up, let alone get you to play it for me?"

Merlin's brows knotted in confusion. "Ok maybe not me playing it but you are going to have this played by someone, right? You can't just keep something this good to yourself, I mean I know it's personal but you have the potential to make a career out of this if you wanted. It's your choice of course, and I get that but-"

"Actually", Arthur interrupted, his fingers rubbing his temples as if he had a headache, "this is just a hobby, and besides," he asked defensively, "why the fuck do you care?"

Merlin lifted his hands. "Hey, I'm just saying, if this is 'just a hobby', then you're pretty damn good at it. What's stopping you?" he asked. To him it sounded like the "this is just a hobby" reason sounded a little forced. Like it came from someone else. Merlin had a deep suspicion that his father had a hand in steering Arthur's career choices, and although he did not envy Arthur, he couldn't help but feel that he could use a bit of help finding his way. If only he would just accept it.

The room fell into a tense silence once more. Then Merlin heard two words from Arthur that he would have never expected.

"You're right".

_'Say what now?'_

"Sorry I was a bit of a prat, it's just…" Arthur ran a hand agitatedly through his hair once again as he attempted to find the words he needed to explain his predicament. "You know my Dad, right? Scary as hell conductor of the orchestra?"

Merlin nodded his head in agreement, fighting to contain the slight grin prompted by Arthur's admitted fear of Uther.

"Well, he doesn't exactly feel that one can make a career out of composing"

"Uh huh, so?"

Arthur looked at him blankly. "So, what?"

"Why's that stopping you?"

Arthur gave a non-committal shrug and removed his gaze from Merlin's. "Because what he says goes."

Merlin let out a low whistle. "Well that's a shit excuse."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't let your fear of your father get to you. If you want to do this you should go for it."

"You don't know my father."

"What will he cut you out of his inheritance?" Merlin said jokingly. Arthur swivelled around. _'Too soon?'_ Merlin thought worriedly but then Arthur gave him a wry smile and asked "Did you notice the classy furniture downstairs?"

"Yeah that and the entire house", Merlin chuckled. "You guys are pretty loaded if you don't mind me saying".

Arthur returned the laugh. "I guess, although to be honest I used to be really embarrassed about bringing friends here.

"Why?"

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Because I didn't want people to think I was the stuck up rich boy who wanted to show off his father's money."

Merlin began to feel waves of pity as he listened to Arthur's confession, picturing a young blond-haired boy walking alone through the carpeted hallways, the worn teddy bear Merlin spotted in the corner of a bookshelf (which Arthur probably thought was hidden away) tucked under a pudgy arm, the obvious splendour doing nothing to ease his loneliness. 'No wonder he tries to please his father', Merlin thought. With Uther being the way that he was combined with the loss of his mother as an infant (an ex-ballerina Morgana had told him) Arthur was probably very lonely.

"Well", Merlin said, "I don't think you're_ entirely_ stuck up."

Arthur raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Oh don't get me wrong, you're stuck up alright. And filthy rich." Merlin continued cheerfully, ignoring Arthur's barely concealed surprise. "But I know that somewhere deep down inside, there's a nice guy...who happens to write some okay compositions."

Arthur's face relaxed at the jibe. "Only okay?"

"Hey, don't push it" Merlin said warningly and the two of them began to laugh, only ceasing when the door of the room inched open to reveal the birthday girl, a small smile gracing her face as she observed the unlikely pair joking around with each other.

"Well this is nice", she said, looking pointedly at her brother who only days ago was complaining about the 'idiot who knocked him over'. Arthur merely rolled his eyes. "Well if it isn't the 21-year-old. Feel good to finally be promoted from the kiddies table to the adult's one this Christmas?"

"Funny, because you could be fifty and you'd still act like a child. Hey there Merlin"

"Hey, happy birthday Morgana", Merlin stood to give her the oddly shaped present, which she received with a grin.

"You didn't have to get me anything". Merlin shrugged as he watched her tear away the messy wrapping.

"Careful with that!" he advised as she ruthlessly unwrapped the gift to reveal a small succulent with shiny leaves that curled over the rim of its jam jar container. Morgana looked back at him wide eyed.

"Yeah", Merlin began nervously, "I remembered you saying that you liked pot plants so I went to Bunnings, got the plant and found an idea on the internet, I think it was Buzzfeed, where you could replant-"

"Merlin, I love it", Morgana cut in, and she leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek, causing Merlin blush furiously and Arthur to snort in amusement.

"And, how long did you have that poor plant wrapped up for?" he asked. Both Merlin and Morgana glared back at Arthur.

"Artie dearest", Morgana said, "Please shut up and help me stick up some streamers".

'If Morgana ever gets tired of journalism, she could definitely go into interior design' , Gwen thought to herself, as she and Morgana entered the jam-packed basement, Lorde's latest release 'Team' playing over the speakers. It was almost midnight and the party was in full swing, with the seventy or so attendees either dancing or sitting around and chatting on the furniture Morgana had stolen from the other rooms and skilfully arranged into small, eclectic groups on the fringes of the abnormally large room. The antique sconces that decorated the walls cast a dim yet warm glow, which Gwen would have admired if she wasn't so frigging nervous.

Gwen was shy. Notoriously so. If Awkward Black Girl was filmed in Australia instead of America, she would be able to call it her biography. She had no idea why she was this way, only that when she was in the company of people she didn't know, her palms would get clammy, she would develop heart palpitations and her mouth would stop working. It had been this way since she was a little girl and now as a twenty year old, she still hadn't grown out of it. For the umpteenth time that night she pulled the hem of the shirt that she borrowed from Morgana, a fitted red t-shirt with an unusual, deep neckline, down over the hem of her faded skinny jeans.

"Stop fidgeting" she heard Morgana say, who looked stunning as usual in a black, high-necked blouse and matching black bandage skirt that ended mid-thigh. With her leather pumps, she looked dangerous and unearthly. Almost witch like.

"Shut up Morgs, you know how nervous I get at these things", Gwen replied crabbily, pressing her lips together, then stopping once she remembered that she had pink lipstick on.

"Yeah, which is exactly why you need to mingle with others", Morgana replied breezily.

"Mingle? What are we, 50 year old socialites?" Gwen replied skeptically, however Morgana seemed to be busy finding people to 'mingle' with. Her green eyes scanned the room until she spotted Arthur's desk partner Leon leaning against the wall talking to his sister Mithian, a viola player in the orchestra. Next to them in a mini green body con dress stood Vivian, member of the second violins and family friend of the Pendragons.

Gwen didn't talk much to Leon personally but from what Morgana said, he was good-natured and unfailingly nice. Mithian she knew from class, her pin straight dark brown hair currently framing her striking face, her light brown eyes casting a critical look over the rest of the room. Like Gwen she did business management, which was just as well as she was incredibly shrewd, and had a streak of determination that both inspired awe and fear within Gwen (not to mention scared half the boys in their class, but then again any boy who was afraid of women with an ounce of talent or confidence was not worth one's time).

However, where Mithian was quietly astute, Vivian was loud, mouthy and incredibly frank. Blonde, busty and unafraid to speak her mind, she attracted boys like flies to a lamp, however in her grey eyes Gwen noticed a haunting uneasiness that betrayed her emotional detachment, as if she found it hard to trust others. Gwen remembered Morgana saying something about her father's constant remarrying to women barely older than his own daughter. Gwen had also heard from rumours that floated around the school that Vivian was a little more liberal when it came to her sex life, causing their fellow students to label her a slut and a myriad of other words that left a bitter taste in Gwen's mouth just thinking about them.

Although Morgana seemed to take a stiff upper lip approach to her family friend's behaviour, personally, Gwen didn't care for slut shaming, nor did she like to pinpoint a lack of self-respect, addictive personality or a need for attention for her obvious sexuality-excuses usually employed by sexist politicians or uptight religious officials. In fact she had to give her kudos for the unapologetic way Vivian dealt with the rumours and kept doing her thing.

"Hey Morgana!" Leon lifted a hand in greeting and Gwen found herself being pulled by Morgana over to the group.

"Hey guys, how are you?" Morgana replied leaning over to give each of them a hug. "You enjoying yourselves?"

"Yeah, it's great what you've done here. Oh hey, Gwen, right? Sup?

"Nothin' much", Gwen replied cheerfully, hoping it didn't sound too forced. She subconsciously tugged on a lock of hair.

"Yeah tell me 'bout it", Vivian piped up, her husky voice slurring slightly. "We need to put on some fucking party music!" She lifted her Corona in the air, and a few people around them cheered in agreement. Morgana's mouth curved into a slight smile.

"You know what Viv, you're right", and with that, she skipped over to the iPod connected to the speakers and began scrolling intently through her playlist.

'Oh God what's she doing now?' Gwen thought inwardly.

"Hey!"

Gwen was shocked out of her thoughts by the sight of Merlin, Cruiser in hand, a stupid grin plastered on his face. _'Well someone's gonna be hungover tomorrow'. _Gwen knew that he wasn't exactly the type to go to parties with the aim of getting pissed, so chances were someone handed him the drink and being the unceasingly nice, slightly naive guy he was, he accepted it. Oh well, she wouldn't mind keeping him company. As long as he didn't throw up on Morgana's extremely expensive rug.

"Isn't this great?" he said enthusiastically, his drink spilling over as he widely gestured around the room.

"Yeah you seem to be having fun", Gwen agreed. A couple of people flashed them annoyed looks, to which she flashed them an apologetic look and held Merlin's arm to prevent him from getting anymore alcohol on the carpet.

"Can you believe", Merlin said, taking a large swill, "that I've never drunk this…what's this stuff again?"

"That would be a Cruiser".

"Ahh, a Cruiser" he said satisfactorily. "Good stuff this."

"Mmmhmm, tell me this Merlin", Gwen said as she guided him to a nearby couch. "How many have you had exactly?"

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, however his voice was drowned by the loud sound of a thumping bass line emanating from the speakers.

_Pass that dutch!_

_'Oh no she didn't'_ Gwen thought. She saw Morgana's triumphant look as she sauntered towards her and proceeded to pull her to the centre of the quickly filling makeshift dancefloor. _'Oh, but she did'._

"There is no way I'm dancing" Gwen protested.

"Oh come on!" Morgana pleaded whilst people around them flocked to the centre of the room, and flashed Gwen her best attempt at a cute puppy dog face.

_'Oh fuck it, why not?'_ she thought as she laughed and let herself get swept into the crowd of writhing bodies and the wave of her own happiness.

A loud booming noise from the basement distracted Arthur from his studies. Well, if you counted checking your Facebook as studying. From his room, he lifted his head from his laptop and looked at the time on the clock.

'12:10. Meh, might as well see how Morgana's party's going', he thought. He had originally planned to stay away from the party to get a little bit of sleep for his rugby game the next morning, but seeing as that plan had already gone down the drain, he decided grabbing a beer with Leon and some of the other guys wouldn't hurt. He entered the dimly lit room and spotted his tall friend leaning against the wall next to a few of his mates from Uni. He grabbed a beer off one of the tables and walked over to join them, navigating a path through the crowd of dancing bodies.

"Hey guys" he greeted.

"Hey, sup?" Leon lifted his drink in acknowledgement. Arthur did the same before taking a large gulp of beer.

"You know this party ain't too bad" Leon said. Arthur nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah but I can bet you that tomorrow I'll be the one cleaning it up" Arthur replied, and the boys gave a chuckle.

"Huh, sucks to be you", Leon said, then both turned to see Merlin attempting to do the shuffle on a coffee table much to the enjoyment of the partygoers who gave shouts of encouragement.

"Jesus, is that the new guy? From orchestra?" Leon asked, "Man he's smashed."

"Yeah, I'll be surprised if he remembers anything tomorrow morning", Arthur agreed as he and the others looked on in amusement. He was still undecided as to what kind of guy he thought Merlin to be. One minute he was a clumsy idiot, the next he was giving out advice like a personal life coach. Although, Arthur had to admit, he was pretty accurate in terms of Uther's stance on his compositional inclinations. And he was unafraid to call him out on his bullshit. He liked that honesty, a trait which kind of reminded him of someone…

He spotted Gwen's head of curls in amongst the dancers. However where everyone was doing some sort of vague 'step to the side and back' thing or some horrible version of dubstep, she and Morgana were performing a full on routine, probably the one that they learnt at that hip hop dance class they attended. Pretty soon, the people around them started to notice and stepped back to form a circle around the pair who were laughing as they busted out a range of moves, generating cheers from the other party goers. Even Leon was clapping along.

"Hey Arthur", said one of the guys. Arthur turned to see Cenred, who wasn't so much a friend as he was a sleazy douchebag who followed him and his mates around, gesturing in Gwen's general direction. "Is that your sister's friend? She looks kinda hot!"

Arthur turned back to look at Gwen who was wearing a red top that he remembered belonged to his sister, which showed a little more chest than the outfits she usually wore. As she did some sort of complex move with her feet, garnering more whoops from the audience, he noticed the way her jeans showed off her legs and her pair of black high heels, which for some reason didn't seem to inhibit her ability to move (he had a sister, he knew these things). As she and Morgana reached the end of their routine, laughing and high five-ing each other, Arthur couldn't help but agree with Cenred. She was confident and sexy and obviously didn't give two fucks about the fact that she and his sister just performed a bloody hip hop routine in someone's basement. She was, in Cenred's words, pretty hot. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it before.

He took another swig of his beer in an effort to quell the strange emotions that threatened to manifest themselves in him walking over to Gwen to ask her dance. Wasn't there some sort of unspoken code that forbade liking your sibling's friends? If there was, then there was clearly some part inside of him that wasn't listening.

He heard the song change to 'Latch' by Disclosure and the atmosphere of the room immediately changed as Sam Smith's vocals and hypnotic techno beats wove a spell over the partygoers. Couples began to form on the dance floor and Arthur began to wonder what it would be like to feel her arms around his neck. His hands on her waist. And yet before he could even envision his imaginings, he saw a man around their age with brown hair and a Colgate smile tap Gwen on the shoulder. As she turned around and gasped his name, "Lance!", before throwing her arms around him in a hug, Arthur thought bitterly_ 'And of course, she has a boyfriend. Who happens to look like a bloody fitness model.'_

When they began to dance, leaning their foreheads on each other as they exchanged whispered small talk, Arthur felt inside him stirrings of jealousy. _'Come on Arthur it's not like she's your girlfriend or anything. Shit, you were arguing with her less then two weeks ago!'_ And yet he couldn't help but flex his hands in annoyance when he saw the Lance guy lean in close to Gwen's face, angling it slightly as if to kiss her, to which Gwen seemed to have no qualms about reciprocating the advances.

"Gwen!"

A distraught Morgana clutching a mobile phone tumbled down the stairs towards said person who quickly untangled herself from a dejected looking Lance and approached her, apparently asking her what the matter was. Arthur watched as Morgana gently took Gwen by the crook of her arm and lead her to the side of the room, where they continued their conversation. Arthur's brow furrowed as he noticed the serious expression on Morgana's face and Gwen's smile fall, as the former delivered her news in anxious hushed tones. When Morgana had apparently finished, he saw Gwen eyes close and a single tear fall onto her round cheek.

_'What happened?'_

And yet as soon as Morgana made to place her hand on Gwen's arm in comfort, Arthur saw the latter's eyes snap open into a look of grim determination. She said something to his sister, to which Morgana replied with a vigorous nod of her head. Both of them made their way through the party goers, past a confused Lance, and bounded up the stairs.

Arthur decided to follow. He needed to know if his sister and Gwen were alright. Without saying good bye to his friends he ran after them up the stairs and through the front door where he saw them about to get into Morgana's car.

"Morgana! Morgs!"

Morgana turned midway through opening the door, her hand gripping the car door.

"Hey, what's going on? Are you okay?" he asked, hoping that his worries were unfounded.

"Yeah Artie, do you mind telling Daddy that I'm driving Gwen to the hospital?" She was using Daddy and Artie, terms of endearment that she only used when making fun of them or when she was in trouble; not a good sign.

"Yeah of course, what for? Do you need me to drive?" Arthur looked over to the car to see Gwen already in the passenger seat, her eyes scrunched closed once more in anguish.

Morgana shook her head sadly, giving him a bittersweet smile that unnerved him. "No it's ok, neither of us have drunk anything." She opened the car door and hastily turned on the vehicle. "I'll call when I'm coming home".

Arthur nodded. "What's wrong then?"

"Gwen's father has had a heart attack". And with that Morgana shut the door and sped off into the night.

**Thanks for reading, I know this was super long but just a quick couple of notes. I hope that none of the depictions here offended anyone or made anyone uncomfortable in my efforts of portraying your average house party. And with Vivian, I wanted to make her character a little different by making her smart, loud and frank (I'll get more in-depth in later chapters). I've read a lot stories on FanFiction, many of them which are otherwise fantastically written and engaging, that tend to criticise people like her who are unafraid to express their sexuality, and as a feminist, I believe that one shouldn't slut shame nor should they base a woman's worth on their perceived 'purity'. There are some women who prefer to have sex after marriage or only with significant others, and then there are others who won't. In my books, both ways are completely fine and do not impact upon content of character. So yeah, sorry about getting all political, I don't want to start anything, but that's my little rant/explanation. If you have any concerns please PM me :) **

**And sorry about the cliff hanger (haha, kind of) but fear not, I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter. If there's anything that you liked, didn't like, found interesting or need me to define, just PM me or even better, post a review. **

**Thank you!**

**Alisi13 **


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